


The Notebook That Shall Not Be Shared

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, Pining Enjolras, doodling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has a notebook that nobody's supposed to touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Notebook That Shall Not Be Shared

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](http://chiefjolras.tumblr.com/post/53673852356/no-but-imagine-if-theyre-all-studying-at-the) tumblr post.

Maybe the shrieking was just a tad bit over the top.

But could he really be blamed for it?  It was  _his notebook_.  More than that, it was  _the Notebook That Shall Not Be Shared_.

Harry Potter references aside, it was not a notebook he ever let anyone else see, and for good reason — one look at it would have made it patently obvious to anyone with working eyes that the disdain he showed for Grantaire’s political cynicism didn’t extend to the rest of him.

Because, ah, there might be lists.  Of the things about Grantaire that make Enjolras light-headed and a little dizzy and give him a whole squadron of very intense butterflies in his stomach.

And hearts.  There is a truly absurd amount of hearts doodled in the margins.  Some of them have little ‘e + R’s drawn inside them.

Honestly, it’s all very middle-school, and Enjolras isn’t ashamed of it — he just doesn’t think it’s anybody else’s business how he deals with his ridiculous, absurd, maddening  _crush._

 

And then the object of his affections snatches the book out of his hands mid-doodle, saying, ‘hey, you’re drawing, I wanna see.’

The scream may not be necessary, but the getting the hell out of Dodge that accompanies it, Enjolras leaping to his feet and right out of the cafe, sure is.

He gets about three blocks before he hears his name.  ”Enjolras!”

And it’s Grantaire and oh God, he’s  _so fucked_ , because, like the smitten middle-schooler he has inexplicably turned into, he turns around on instinct, even though his face is bright red.

Grantaire jogs up to him, and the notebook is still in his hand.  He’s red, too, probably from exertion.

"So, um," he says, gesturing weakly with the book.  "Explanation?"

"Does it really need explaining?" Enjolras asks petulantly, looking down at his shoes.  

Grantaire shifts on his feet.  ”Considering the evidence is literally twenty pages of unsaid compliments and a bunch of hearts, yeah.”

"I…" Enjolras feels himself go redder, because somehow that’s even  _possible_.  ”I have feelings for you.”

"Feelings?" Grantaire echoes, his voice small.

Enjolras swallows and nods.  ”Feelings.”  He pauses.  ”Are you mad at me?”

"No!" Grantaire practically squeaks, and Enjolras has to look up at him.  He looks like he’s kind of flabbergasted, and okay he’s blushing, it’s not from the running after all.  

"Okay," Enjolras mumbles.  "I should probably ask you out now."

"I think you should probably kiss me," Grantaire replies, awkwardly, and he gets even redder; it seems like he didn’t mean to say it.

"Oh," Enjolras breathes, and he does.

 


End file.
